There's Always Next Year
by chichitehahh
Summary: Quinn Fabray wants to celebrate Memorial Day with Rachel, and maybe even finally say something that's been on her mind for the last few months. Faberry. Oneshot.


Rocking had always seemed to put Rachel in a state of contentment, add to it the warm sun and gentle breeze, and this Memorial Day seemed to be better than any other she had before. There was a certain air out here, being surrounded by water, watching seagulls search for a meal as she steadily ate a vegan sandwich Quinn had made her. The cawing and the gentle splashing noises of the minuscule waves contacting the side of the boat. She'd label today as the perfect day, the day that she and Quinn somehow managed to get that much closer.

The two had been quiet today, not that it was a horrible thing, but it seemed as though that they had gotten so comfortable any conversation seemed ridiculous. When you so easily read the mind of the person you were with, conversation grew pointless it seemed. The ability to speak while not saying a word had always been lost with the brunette, she'd never seen it as a possibility. It was why she practiced such a large vocabulary, to ensure that whoever she spoke to understood what she was saying crystal clear before anything was said in return.

But as she sat, her eyes lost in the horizon before them as they sat at the bow, words were so clearly unneeded. She'd of course partake in a simple topic, how classes had been, had Quinn met anyone interesting, was there any kind of love interest, but at the moment the silence seemed to be more welcome than questions, and as Rachel turned to Quinn, catching the hazel eyes darting away from her own face, Rachel smiled and finally broke the silence. "I've just realized I haven't thanked you for today," her words were shy, a kind of modesty to them, though Rachel hadn't a clue as to why they were there.

A faint smile graced the lips of Quinn Fabray as she looked back up to the brunette, chewing her bite of sandwich as she nodded. "You're welcome, it's not anything too special," The hazel eyes looked away again, out past Rachel watching a flock of birds pass them.

Quinn had become more and more interested with nature the longer she stayed at Yale. She found a beauty and appreciation in it that she'd never paid attention to before. Her attempts to capture it on film weren't the greatest, but she was getting better. Though today it seemed she could only focus her camera on Rachel. The sun shining behind her, wind taking her hair as Rachel looked off to the side. The way she had leaned over the side of the boat earlier to feel the water, sitting off the back and dangling her feet just over the water's edge. Quinn didn't think she'd ever captured a more beautiful moment than the ones she'd caught today.

She hadn't planned for the day to be this quiet. Her original plan was to take Rachel out, have a nice lunch, go for a swim, and then tell Rachel everything. Tell her how she loved the nights they'd stay up and watch whatever they felt like, be it over the phone or laying in bed next to each other. How she couldn't love a moment more than moments with her. How she had fallen hopelessly and helplessly in love with her. But it wasn't the right time, proven just moments ago as Rachel called them friends. The best of friends, but still, friends.

Quinn knew better, she knew that Rachel felt more, that they could be more, but Rachel still referred to them as friends.

Even after lacing fingers.

Even after refusing to sleep just to stay on the phone just a few more minutes longer.

Even after waking up with Quinn's arm wrapped securely around her.

Even after Rachel had kissed Quinn when she thought the blond was sleeping. Right on the lips and just for a second. A second that had felt like a lifetime for the blonde.

Quinn didn't know why she didn't open her eyes. Maybe she was afraid of Rachel running off. Or afraid of embarrassing her. Or maybe she was afraid to admit it to herself. The point was that none of this mattered. Because even if Quinn had admitted it to herself now, Rachel hadn't. And that was okay.

There was always next year.


End file.
